


Prizes

by Kay (sincere)



Series: A Backwards Courtship [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Bratty!Loki, Cultural Differences, Falling In Love, Fantastic Racism, Genderqueer, Jotun!Loki, M/M, Other, Pregnancy, Relationship Negotiation, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:51:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincere/pseuds/Kay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The queen of Asgard must provide an heir. Loki knows that. But he must arrange everything just so -- it must happen precisely on his terms -- and he must make Thor <i>work</i> for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prizes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainfall/gifts).



> A holiday gift for idk my bff [rainfall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rainfall/pseuds/rainfall)! Written for the prompt "quest" at [cottoncandy_bingo](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org).
> 
> This fic takes place in an AU where Loki is rescued as a baby by a frost giant, instead of by Odin. It contains intersex Jotun -- _differently_ than you may have seen them before -- and pregnancy.

Loki always kept rigorous, studious track of his fertility. It was not something he liked to come upon him by surprise: after all, the first few hours were rather uncomfortable, and of course he would need contraceptives on hand if he had a partner at the time. His approach to it was methodical and matter-of-fact. He knew the rhythms of his own body the same way he knew any magical working he cast: inside and out.

So when time grew short, and he knew that he would only have a day or two left, he took the opportunity to speak to Thor -- if not directly.

"We must speak of something," Loki murmured.

He was on his back after their passion, blissfully cooling off. Thor was curled onto his side, facing away, prepared to sleep, and he was silent, silent, silent, until Loki began to think that perhaps his ridiculously simplistic mate intended to feign sleep to avoid the conversation, perhaps with a loud, comical snore sound. But finally the golden god shifted, rolling onto his back as well, and he turned his head to look at Loki. "Now?" he rumbled.

That part was reflex, something Loki had done ever since childhood. Good little Jotun runts starved to death before they could be a burden on anyone, and any Jotun warrior worth his hide would be happy to introduce one to death if he brought up obnoxious topics in public. Loki had always waited until the dead of night to ask Angrboda any questions that he found embarrassing or confrontational. He wanted this conversation to be part of the twilight: unendingly dark, hush unbroken by any meaningful noise or movement, so that if it went poorly it could be as easily forgotten as a nightmare that had woken Thor in the middle of the night.

He explained, soft, "Soon, I will be fertile. If not not now, when? We have not yet discussed what that truly means."

There was another pause. Loki could see the visible white of Thor's eyes shift, his gaze skimming down the length of Loki's body curiously. His mind went to precisely the least important aspect of the situation.

Ridiculously simplistic. Loki reached out to touch fingers to Thor's bearded chin, and tipped his head up until he was sure those eyes were on his face again -- or, at least, what could be seen of his face, since Loki blended into the dark far more than Thor, with his light skin and light hair and light eyes.

"Are you prepared to be a _father_?" he pressed.

Loki heard Thor's breath catch. They had spoken of it before, matter-of-factly. Loki would need to provide an heir. He would be fertile soon. But never in terms of what it would mean to Thor, or whether he wanted that for himself. And Loki knew that for Thor, it would be no insignificant thing.

"I... had not given it thought before," Thor confessed.

"I know," Loki said, stroking fingers lightly. "That is why I ask. If you think you are unready, or it is not of interest to you, then it needn't happen now. I can delay it until it is your choice."

That obviously caught Thor off-guard. He asked, "You can?" As if he thought it was a grand working of mysticism.

Loki kept from rolling his eyes. Thor was young, but he certainly had not been virginal in his marriage bed. Had the man only _bedded_ adult females of his species in his thousand years of life, and never bothered to speak to them save to point at his loins and grunt? Had he not met anyone who had ever been pregnant? Did he even know his own mother?

"Yes, Thor. There are herbs and potions that can see to it that I do not become with child before we choose it."

Another few heartbeats of silence passed while Thor considered this, frowning. He must have found something objectionable in it, for he said, "Well, it takes a long time to conceive a child. Some people wait years and decades. Perhaps we will let fate decide for us."

"Some _Asgardian_ people," Loki corrected. " _My_ people have no such difficulty."

"Truly?!"

"Why do you think there are so many of us to keep wasting on wars with you?" he asked, sweet. A half-dozen Asgardians could take down a regiment of frost giants, but sheer numbers the Jotun had in spades. He had never known a Jotun to fail to conceive if he intended to -- and, in fact, even sometimes if all his intentions were to _not_ conceive.

Thor scowled; Loki could see it even in the darkness. But he said, slowly, "Then -- if the decision is truly ours... It must be both of ours." He looked at Loki again, hesitant. "What do you wish?"

A sweet thought, although perhaps sweeter still was the hesitant, almost shy way that he said it. Loki felt his lips quirk up slightly, and stroked Thor's jaw again. It was hard not to be fond of his foolish mate -- hard not to feel that he would make an almost shamefully indulgent and proud father. "I _wish_ for what will be best for the peace between our people. I think that would likely be a symbol that our marriage is true -- a child. But I also wish for it to continue to be a happy union, and so if you do not want this, then neither do I."

Thor shook his head, stubbornly. "You do not tell me what you want for yourself, and you are the one who will carry it. It must be something you wish as well."

There was no way to explain to him that Jotun were not particularly attached to their children, and did not lay particular significance on having them. It was a matter of course for them: they would have them, or else reach a point in their life when they felt it was time to have them, or else go into heat and have them. Loki hesitated for a beat before saying, "I have no objections to the idea. I am not afraid or reluctant. I will happily have this child." He settled his hand on Thor's chest. "But if any of that is not true for you, then it can wait."

Slowly, Thor shifted, curling closer to Loki, resting his forehead on Loki's chest; Loki shifted accordingly, wrapping his arms behind Thor's shoulders. "I..." His voice sounded strange, rusty. "...I would be... honored."

He did not sound fully convinced, more as if he were still adjusting to the idea. But Loki had done all he could. He tangled fingers in Thor's long, thick hair, quietly marveling at the softness of it, as he always did. "Then there is just... one _tiny_ thing," he added mildly.

Thor frowned, drawing back to look up at him. "What is that?" he asked, suspiciously.

Loki smiled, innocent, though he doubted Thor could see it. "Well-- I need an offering."

"You need a _what_?" Thor said, and there was a flicker of outrage in his voice.

"Often, a courting Jotun will present an offering to display his value as a mate and a sire," Loki told him. "His prowess as an ice-shaper, or as a hunter, or as a warrior... That sort of thing."

"I am not _courting_ you, I am your-- your mate, your husband."

"I know that, but even among mated partners, it is customary to _win_ the right to sire a child." He put on his most earnest tones. "Your title alone qualifies you to care for my offspring. But that is an intellectual knowledge. My people do not content ourselves with _intellectual_ knowledge. We require more... physical demonstration. I must have proof that my child's sire is one who can provide for me, for us." And then Loki let his voice lower, tempting. "Surely it would not be so difficult for you, son of Odin, king of Asgard, to show me such proof."

It was an attack on every front he could manage without reaching too far: the appeal to Thor's racist confidence in the savagery of the Jotun, the plea for understanding of his cultural differences, the combined stroke of his ego and subtle doubt of his ability... And he had immediate, visceral evidence of how effective it was: Thor's hands found his elbows, tightened enough to begin to be uncomfortable, and he let out a breath, hot and conflicted.

After a long beat, Thor demanded, "What manner of proof?"

Loki's lips curved up again. He said, lightly, "I want... a necklace. Strung with ten dragon's teeth, from ten different dragons."

Now to bait the trap with his lust for battle and adventure, which had been buried in the handful of months since he had inherited his throne. Dragons were rare, powerful, solitary creatures; it would be a journey to find one, and a trial to slay one, much less ten of them. Thor made a noise, not quite agitation, and accused, "That is a wholly unreasonable request!"

"It may be," Loki admitted. "I was trying to imagine a gift worthy of a queen. Certainly I do not need anything so extravagant... If you feel I should settle for a more modest--"

And then to seal it shut with the idea that _his queen_ would _settle_ for a _modest_ offering. Thor wound around him possessively, and he promised, firmly, "You are the most unreasonable creature I have ever met, but if that is what you want, I will _shower_ you with dragon teeth."

Loki's eyes lidded, briefly imagining his offering and -- quite pleased at the image. It was a ruse, of course, but not outright false, and his necklace would be quite the display of his mate's power. Even thinking of it was quite... stirring. He nuzzled in closer, lips sliding against Thor's neck, and he murmured against the skin, "If you think you have seen me satisfied _before_..."

Thor made a husky sound in his throat, hands sliding down Loki's back, cupping his ass. "Again? A fourth time?" But when he rocked his hips close, Loki could feel him already thickening. "You will never cease demanding things of me," he said, husky and smiling.

The next morning Thor made plans for his departure, startling his aides and attendants. Loki retreated to his chamber, as he usually did when Thor was otherwise occupied; he loved taunting the court with his bare blue skin and sweet eloquent mockery, but he could only take so much of that before it grew dull, and right now he was not in the mood for games.

Angrboda was draped over the nest when he got there, his long legs bent over the edge. He lazily bit into his apple, and asked, "This place is in an uproar. Your fault?"

"Yes," Loki said, unperturbed. "Are you slipping, Angrboda? Already becoming so lazy that you do not care for what is happening around you, and so I find you lying on your back eating instead of investigating?"

"What is that useless oaf Burkhart here for if not to investigate on my behalf?" Angrboda snorted a laugh. "I raised you for a decade when you had been left out to die, and then sheltered you for decades more before you were any use to me, so I consider myself now reaping the rewards of my generosity."

Loki's lips quirked up. "I told Thor you were my manservant," he said, putting his hands on his hips. "So if you want to continue living this life of luxury once Burkhart is not here to be your beast of burden, you had best act more the part. Or else you will be cast back to Jotunheim to live in your crumbling little house."

Angrboda made another dismissive noise. "Laufey had best kiss my feet in gratitude when I return. If not for my foresight, his precious realm would be disintegrating." He tossed the rest of the apple into his mouth whole, and then eyed Loki consideringly as he chewed it. Loki recognized the question in his eyes.

"I sent my mate to fetch me an offering," Loki told him.

The big lanky Jotun choked, and sat up abruptly. "The king of Asgard? Fetching _you_ an offering?"

"You needn't make it sound like I don't deserve one," he returned, more crossly. "Though I may have implied that even kings are obligated to prove that they are worthy to sire children."

Angrboda rumbled an amused, "I suppose the idea has merit. Half of Jotunheim would scramble to prove themselves worthy of siring Laufey's child if he did not have Farbauti, but no one would care if he wanted to sire someone _else's_ child. So why not make him pay for the right?"

"Asgardian kings do not have the option of bearing their own young, as you well know," Loki reminded him patiently. "According to their system, a child is of the line of his sire, not the one who bore him."

They both shrugged, mutually finding this a silly system, but not caring enough to make the protests.

"You chose to tell him that. You sent him away on purpose, little mouse," Angrboda observed. "Why?"

Angrboda would not believe that he solely wanted an impressive necklace. He was a jewelry-maker, and ever since Loki had earned his position at his father's side, he had lavished Loki with extravagant gifts as a reward for not disappointing his grand expectations when he found an abandoned royal runt out in the snow. They had both expected that once he was Laufey's heir, his succession to Jotunheim's throne was all but certain.

Instead, Loki's brother Helblindi would be king, and Loki was -- queen of Asgard, father of its future king.

"I didn't care to explain to him why I spend tomorrow unwilling to be in his company," he said, with a little toss of his head, heading to the tray of fruits, cheeses, and breads that some terrified Asgardian servant had brought in as a breakfast. Asgard had a far wider variety of fruit than Jotunheim, and he spent a beat being impressed by the strange skin of a kiwifruit. A cursory glance revealed that the only apples were green and red, like the one Angrboda had been eating when he arrived; none gold. "So I told him that if he wanted children of me, he must pay the price, and leave."

That got a chuckle from Angrboda. "Conniving child," he said, almost fondly. "What would you have done if he had told you he did not want one yet? Your fertile time would still come, and he would still be present."

"I knew he would not," Loki said confidently. "The pressure from his people is too great. He knows that he needs to get me with child to show that Asgard's bargain has been a success, rather than an act of foolishness." And then he grinned, showing teeth. "And even if he had, I would have been quick to turn that selfish behavior into an argument and spent the next day or two in a furious state."

Angrboda laughed as he bit into the bitter skin of the kiwifruit, to find the sweetness beneath.

The brief hours of the change were always uncomfortable; the hormones made him feel flushed, and his body cramped as it altered his anatomy. This time, as he had no responsibilities to attend to that might distract him, he treated himself to a painkilling medication and tried to sleep through it. He had undergone this change twice a year for a thousand years, and he had never actually put it to use before -- never actually conceived a child.

He had the suspicion it was going to unsettle the comfortable, familiar rhythms of his body.

Thor returned home within only three days, flushed and happy, his hair and eyes and grin wild. He hopped down from his mount at Loki's feet in the courtyard and swept him straight off the ground, spinning him around in a tight embrace that threatened to cut off his circulation. Loki let out a breath in a rush, squirming in his grasp until Thor laughed and set him down.

"I have your prize for you, greedy thing," Thor said, fondly.

Loki's lips curved up. "Show it to me!" He found he was somewhat giddy with anticipation. Angrboda's jewels and precious metals were one thing, reward because his success elevated Angrboda to a life of luxury. But no one had ever been so avid to win his favor as to hunt down _dragons_ for the privilege of mating with him.

Thor drew it from a pouch on his horse's tack: a heavy strand of silver rope, fitted into small holes bored through the polished white of the dragon's teeth, each one almost as long as Loki's spread hand perfectly symmetrically arranged to curve into each other, that would draw to a point in the center of his chest. Loki marveled at it quietly, touching it with his fingers. Thor must have found someone to craft it into a piece that was already wearable, instead of simply delivering the yellowed, chipped teeth on a string.

"Is it satisfactory?" Thor asked, and reached up to fasten the necklace behind Loki's head. "I was assured by my blacksmith that it would be a royal gift for any Jotun, but I am hardly fit to judge for myself."

Loki let out a shaky breath, feeling the fangs trace delicately over his bare skin, and then his gaze focused on Thor, slightly heated already. "More than satisfactory," he said, low.

Thor's eyes were fixed on his in return. "Good," he murmured. "Because I want -- to mount you while you wear it."

Loki's fingers fisted in Thor's tunic, and he purred, "Right here in the courtyard, in the relative shelter of the stables, or will you make me wait until we may find a bedroom?"

That level of willingness was obviously not something Thor had planned for, and he let out a surprised groan and swept Loki up off the ground again, heading for the palace as fast as his long legs could take them. He did, in fact, make Loki wait until they found a bedroom, because of the irritating Asgardian prudishness that made Loki itch to scandalize them. But the moment the door shut behind them, Thor tossed him onto his back on the bed, necklace jangling over his skin, and Loki had scarcely parted his legs for his mate before Thor dove between them, pinning him down and kissing him hungrily.

Loki felt his stomach knot with hunger, and he twisted his head away, breathing, "I have -- a surprise for you, Thor."

Thor made an insensate noise against his neck, lips searing hotly over blue skin and fixing on the side, biting down. Loki's breath caught, vision blurring briefly as teeth skimmed his sensory markings roughly, pleasurepain jolting his awareness. He might not have had the presence of mind to speak again for a few beats, but Thor ground hotly between his legs and paused, not feeling the pronounced bulge that should have been there beneath his heavy gilded loincloth. His gaze flickered down and then back up again, confused; he lifted himself up, obviously concerned that perhaps Loki wasn't as eager for this as he was.

It made Loki laugh a little, shallow and unsteady. He found Thor's hand on his hip and drew it down, slipping beneath the outer cover of the loincloth, to brush over the leather that cupped his body more intimately, growing damp with the evidence of Loki's arousal.

Thor's eyes widened. He stroked the mound again with his fingers, seeking something that wasn't there, realizing... And then he groaned, reaching down to tear away the leather loincloth, so that he could see for himself. The flesh bared to his sight was smooth curving between his legs, hairless, splitting into a neat seam between his thighs. Fascinated, Thor ran one finger along his folds, spreading them apart and revealing the wet, glistening violet within. The touch made Loki shiver, his breath quickly speeding out of control.

"This -- is how you will bear a child," Thor said, thickly, wondering. "Witchcraft?"

Loki chuckled again, but the sound was interrupted as that finger found his clit, nudged it gently up, and his body clenched, shuddering. "It is natural. All -- Jotun go through it..."

And that was all he got out before Thor ducked down, hitching up his thighs and burying his mouth between Loki's legs, and words ceased to be at all important.


End file.
